Yes, Virginia, THere is a Superman
by carcassi
Summary: Very short futurefic in which Santa helps out the youngest member of the Kent familyand gets more than he bargained for. Chlarkish seasonal schmoop!


**Yes, Virginia, There is a Superman**

**A/N:** Inspired by the song "Silver Bells." Happy Holidays, everyone:)

_City sidewalk, busy sidewalks  
Dressed in holiday style.  
In the air there's  
A feeling of Christmas. _

Children laughing, people passing,  
Meeting smile after smile,  
And on every street corner you'll hear:

Silver bells, silver bells,  
It's Christmas time in the city.  
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring,  
Soon it will be Christmas day.

The streetcorner Santa whistled the tune softly as he swung a bell next to his little red Salvation Army bucket in the heart of downtown Metropolis. He hadn't been able to get it out of his head all afternoon, while an army of shoppers jostled past him in increasing desperation, anxious to find that perfect gift in the last few hours before Christmas Eve.

None of them stopped to listen to his bells or his whistling, and very few threw any coins in the bucket. It was really too bad, he thought. Donations had been going down the last couple of years, and they'd already had to cut back on so many things, like the number of beds in the homeless shelter. From the looks of it, more belts would have to be tightened. He sighed, unconsciously patting the belt on his own padded Santa suit, and considered giving more money himself. After all, who needed _two_ vacations a year?

A gentle tugging on his sleeve drew his eyes down. A little blonde girl in an unbuttoned wool coat gazed up at him with earnest green eyes. "Santa, I losted Mommy."

She couldn't have been more than four years old but, unlike most kids her age, she wasn't screaming in panic. She just stood there, looking up at him hopefully.

He smiled reassuringly and crouched low to meet her eyes, setting his bell on the pavement. On the crowded street, they were like an island in a sea of hurrying legs. "What's your name, Sweetheart?"

"Lara."

"Do you know your last name, honey?" he asked, without much hope. Her short blonde hair went flying in all directions as she shook her head, and he sighed. She wasn't carrying any kind of purse, of course, and the coat pockets looked empty, too. He hated to think of the panic this child's mother must be feeling right now. "Are you sure, Lara? What's your Mommy's name? Or your Daddy's name?"

To his surprise, her face lit up happily. "Oh, I know _that_! He's _Superman_."

He stared wordlessly at the child's delighted smile and glowing eyes. As a volunteer Santa at the shelter, he'd talked to plenty of kids who claimed they'd _met_ Superman, but this was a first. If nothing else, she was original.

Automatically he reached out to button her coat, only to be stopped by a soft whine. "I too hot, Santa."

"Hot? It's below freezing, child. Your Mommy wouldn't want you to get sick." His fingers brushed against her chin, and he noticed that she did feel very warm to his touch. He hoped she wasn't running a fever.

"I not sick. I never sick," she pouted, but let him finish closing up her coat before looking up at him appealingly through long lashes. "Go find Daddy?" she asked hopefully.

He smiled and shook his head. "I can't, Lara dear. No one can find Superman."

"You fly, just like Daddy. Don't you?"

He cleared his throat. "My reindeer can fly, but I can't. And they're…..busy right now, helping the elves."

"Ohhh." A toddler-sized sigh escaped her lips. "Maybe Daddy find me? He finds Mommy all the time."

He eyed the cherubic little face affectionately, thinking of his own daughter at that age. She'd had an imaginary friend; was an imaginary daddy that much of a stretch? "Tell you what," he said, in his cheery "Santa" voice, "Why don't you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?"

It might give her mother time to find them. If not, at least the little girl would have a chance to talk to Santa.

"I _did_." Those green eyes rounded in surprise. "You forget?"

Oh, one of those. "You must have talked to one of my elves," he explained smoothly. "They help me out at the mall a lot."

"Oh." She nodded, with all the gravity a four-year-old could muster. Her eyes never left his, and he was impressed with the brightness of her glance. This one, he thought, didn't miss much.

He glanced upward and saw the spreading twilight. It was getting dark, and still no one had come to claim this sweet kid. Also, he hadn't heard any change clinking into the bucket in quite a while. It was almost time to close up shop. He really hoped his shift wouldn't end with a visit to the police station with this little girl in tow.

"You sad." The words startled him.

"Huh?" Correction: This child didn't miss _anything_. "I mean, I'm not sad, dear. Just hoping you find your Mommy and Daddy."

"You sad," she repeated gravely. "I help? Like Daddy."

He laughed at that, just a little, but her eyes never left his. "Please?"

He looked at that hopeful little face, and melted. "You know, Lara, you really are a super kid," he said affectionately. "OK, you can help…."

A sonic boom directly overhead shook the pavement. He stuck out a red-sleeved arm just in time to keep from hitting the cement, and grabbed wildly for Lara, who'd nearly fallen with him. But instead of crying, she pointed at the air in pure delight. "Look! Daddy!"

Across the skies of Metropolis streaked a familiar red-and-blue figure. It flew so close that even the frenzied shoppers around them stopped to gaze in wonder.

"Daddy's coming." Lara's little voice piped up confidently over the excited whispers swirling around them. Her head swiveled and she met his eyes. "He help?"

Clearly, "help" was a word Lara took very seriously. It spoke well of her parents. "Yes, he can help," he said at last. "There are a lot of poor kids in this city who won't have enough to eat, or even maybe a place to stay, this year, because there's not enough money. Your…. help us raise some money. That's what I'd ask for, if I could."

She blinked, clearly not understanding a word. He smiled sadly and chided himself for falling down (literally) on the job. He was the one who was supposed to grant wishes. And yet tonight, of all nights, it was a child, and not Santa, who'd offered to help.

_And a little child shall lead them._

Inwardly he chuckled. Maybe it wasn't so shameful after all.

A slim, attractive blonde pushed through the scurrying crowd and dropped her shopping bags breathlessly. She was the grown-up image of the little girl, except for her eyes. "Lara! We were so worried! Don't ever run away again!"

Lara flew into her arms and began to cry softly. "I sorry, Mommy."

Behind the reunited pair appeared a tall dark-haired man wearing glasses and some sort of nondescript gray suit. His eyes, though, didn't match the rest of him; they were the same startling shade of green as little Lara's.

The father was looking directly at him, he noticed. "Thank you." The man's emerald eyes crinkled into a smile. "You've given us the best Christmas present we could hope for."

The volunteer Santa shook his hand. "Your daughter just did the same for me," he said, smiling. "She's quite a little lady. She cares a lot about helping."

The father nodded, his solemn expression matching his daughter's. "So do I. And I know you do, too. I'll see what I can do to give you a hand." Before he could ask what the man meant, Lara's father broke into a grin, and it was as if the sun had reversed course and risen back up in the sky. "Helping is important, don't you think? Especially this time of year."

It was almost evening, and the crowds were rapidly thinning. He waved good-bye to the happily reunited family and turned to pack up, looking forward to rejoining his family for a Christmas Eve supper. As he lifted the red bucket, a breeze nearly knocked him over. He felt something prop him up, and then everything was quiet. He looked around, shrugged, and hoisted the bucket into his nearby car. Whistling with renewed good cheer, he headed back to deliver it before he went home.

_City street lights,  
Even stop lights,  
Blink a bright red and green,  
As the shoppers rush home  
With their treasures. _

Hear the snow crunch,  
See the kids bunch,  
This is Santa's big scene,  
And above all this bustle you'll hear:

Silver bells, silver bells,  
It's Christmas time in the city.  
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring,  
Soon it will be Christmas day.

It wasn't until the day after Christmas that he, and the rest of the city, found out that the bucket he'd hauled back to the Salvation Army contained several flawless—and therefore priceless—diamonds. The Salvation Army representatives quoted in the _Daily Planet_ announced that the donation would ensure the financial solvency of the charity's local endeavors for years to come.

As he read the story at the breakfast table, examining the pictures of the six museum-quality gems that had been slipped into his bucket, he saw again the sparkle of green eyes. Priceless, indeed.

He began to whistle.

**The End**


End file.
